


If it were a dream

by privateerwrites



Series: Musketeer March 2021 [13]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, M/M, Sleepy Cuddles, post S1, set vaugely sometime in season 2 but idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 14:02:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30039798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/privateerwrites/pseuds/privateerwrites
Summary: Musketeer March Day 13- Favorite ShipJean overworks himself with Richelieu dead- but it turns out the Cardinal is not as dead as he thought.[yes it's another "the death in s2e1 was fake" fic]
Relationships: Armand Jean du Plessis de Richelieu/de Tréville (Trois Mousquetaires)
Series: Musketeer March 2021 [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2188632
Comments: 6
Kudos: 7





	If it were a dream

**Author's Note:**

> WHEEEEEEEEEE this is just some cuddles in a location that I'm not entirely sure exists but it does now!!! Enjoy!!

There is a voice at the door. Something registers in the back of Treville's head that it might even be important, and he lifts his face off the desk, scrubbing a hand through his hair in an attempt to order it and wake himself up further from the nap he’d been taking.  
  
"IT'S OPEN, ATHOS,” he calls loudly. Athos is the only one who would bother him today. Athos is the only one who doesn't mind, knowing as they all do that Treville did not sleep last night, has not slept for almost a week save for in short naps.  
  
The figure who swirls into the room from the open door is not, in fact, Athos.  
  
Treville's brain short-circuits.  
  
"Arm- Your Em- Car-"  
  
"Jean," says the Cardinal softly. "Stand."  
  
Treville blinks hard, punches his thigh. It _feels_ real, at least. He stands.  
  
Armand crosses the room in three quick steps and wraps his arms around Treville, unceremonious and direct. Treville stiffens in surprise, and then the exhaustion and need to be held kick in, and he goes limp in Armand's arms.  
  
"Are you-"  
  
"I am here."  
  
Treville bites his lip, hard, because he isn't sure that he won't start crying if he opens his mouth again. Richelieu draws back from holding him for a moment, cups his cheek in his hand, and leans forward, slowly enough that Treville can back off if he isn't interested- if he doesn't want to be kissed right now.  
  
He does, in fact, very badly want to be kissed, and he rushes forward to meet Armand’s lips perhaps a little too fast. Their mouths collide in what is definitely not a perfect kiss- it's sloppy and wet and messy and altogether kind of bad. Treville thinks it may be the best kiss he's ever had. Their foreheads lean against each other, and they breathe in the same space, in the same moment.  
  
"Armand," Jean says reverently, like a prayer. "Armand."  
  
The Cardinal smiles. "Jean," he replies, in the same tone as Treville. They kiss again, this time neater and more careful, and it is, Jean thinks distantly, like he can breathe again.  
  
He can feel the haze of exhaustion starting to creep into his brain, a gentle reminder that he has been sticking to a sleep schedule much more like Armand's and much less like one that would be a suitable regimen for a soldier. His knees go out, suddenly, as if now that he is safe and Richelieu is here- Richelieu is _alive_ \- his body has decided he needs to sleep, now.  
  
Armand drops to the floor beside him, albeit much more carefully, and together they stumble towards the bed in the corner. Armand gently peels away the unnecessary clothing from Treville's body, the chest plate and the boots and the jacket, and lies down.  
  
Treville flops sideways gracelessly, his head landing on the pillow at the top of the cot only barely. He wriggles his body to press up against Armand's, to maintain more contact with the man whose touch he has been without for far too long.  
  
"Shhh, shh. There you are," his lover says, stroking an arm down Jean's side. "I've got you." He shudders back into the gentle touch, easing into it like he's only gone hours without, not years. Like he hasn't lost sleep so many nights because he hasn't had it. Like he doesn't live for this touch, these moments. Like his heart hasn't been shattered farther beyond repair every year he has gone without.  
  
Armand seems to sense this, and tucks himself in closer to Treville's side, his body solid and warm and comforting, not quite fixing the cracks left behind by his absence entirely, but smoothing them over like a potter with water and new clay- not healed, but better, less jagged, more easily remedied later.  
  
Treville's breathing slows, steadied by Armand's soothing hand on his body and the rise and fall of a breathing pattern he never thought he'd sleep near again, much less get to have against his back, pressed close and safe to his heart.  
  
He sleeps the whole night, easily and better than he has since- since this became impossible, and he thinks that even if it were a dream, he could happily live within it forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos greatly appreciated!
> 
> Tumblr: privateerstudies


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